


Two Steps Closer

by sweetlolixo



Series: A Letter for XX [3]
Category: the GazettE
Genre: Alternate Universe - Guardian Angels/Reincarnation, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-14
Updated: 2016-06-14
Packaged: 2018-07-15 01:37:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,511
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7200182
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sweetlolixo/pseuds/sweetlolixo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Uruha and Aoi both take a lesson from their past guardian angel on what it means to be angels to each other.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Two Steps Closer

**Author's Note:**

> Fic originally posted onto LiveJournal [here](http://sweetlolixo.livejournal.com/164535.html) on August 27, 2012.

His fingertips, caressing, _caressing_ , softly, across the raven’s skin; his strands of blond hair, poking against the other’s neck, teasing, rummaging, twirling; his pair of brown eyes, immeasurable, heart-stopping, empty of worries but full of promises. The way he moves and presses the older man in, clawing, grabbing, pulling at his loose t-shirt sleeves; leaning against his chest, snuggling up obediently to his half-conscious lover, playing, distracting, slipping his fingers in between the other’s hand, holes that were made, and meant to be fit, with one another from the beginning of time. The way the sun rays shine pass the window is too bright, too harsh to ruin this perfect morning, but it doesn’t bother the blond, who reaches briskly up beside him to pull the drapes by the windows closer, darker. The looming shadows that are cast over them don’t scare him anymore; nothing could, with perfection right before his eyes.

He laughs, softly, unsure, insecure, hands brushing past the raven’s hair, fingering his right ear, admiring the black earring adorned on it; it moves from his hands, away, apart, up, down, with each breath the raven takes, with each heave he makes. He’s growing increasingly frustrated, Uruha can tell; Aoi hated the fact that Uruha could, without fail, adjust to his routine of waking at seven in the morning, when their next appointment was only at twelve, and they had plenty of time to sleep. But he’s given up on persuading the blond to sleep – it doesn’t work, hasn’t worked, and will not work. And Uruha loves the little moments in mornings like these; just silence, just the quietness, just him and the raven, just hearing their beating hearts and tracing his jaw lines and admiring the way the bed sheets crease with each move he makes. His heart is _bursting_ , filling with the kind of utmost security he hadn’t felt in a very long, long time.

Time after time passes, soundless clocks tick and the sun grows harsher by the minute. The shadows move, passing from angle to angle, but their bodies remain, and Uruha’s eyes become still, focused, his hands still slipping in and out of Aoi’s hand, his thumb still brushing past his palm. When the alarm clock rings, Uruha doesn’t even have time to reach for it – the raven does it instead, bursting out of bed with a spring, slamming the alarm clock shut.

“Did I forget my suit?” Aoi’s frantic already, and he barely offers the blond a second glance, his voice panicky. His eyes flicker around the room – it had been neat, nothing too surprising considering Aoi’s OCD, but Uruha had surprised him with some wine last night, and things became… _well_ , messy; the sheets had turned dirty, clothes became strewn around, the expensive carpets stained with an unwashable, unlikeable shade of maroon red – “Didn’t you buy that carpet for five thousand dollars at an auction?” “It’s for charity, you can negotiate how you’re going to pay me back later if you’re a good boy tonight” – Aoi’s eyes are widening as he hops his way around the floor, his thighs sticky from last night, his hands outstretching for a warm coat snuggle into. _Poo_ , Uruha thinks, watching his lovely view of Aoi’s naked ass get covered by a white furry bathrobe. _I enjoyed it for the first five minutes, at least_.

“… Good morning?” The blond manages an awkward smile, brushing his fingers through his own messy, ruffled hair. “Did you forget to give me something, Aoi?” _A morning kiss, maybe_? Uruha loved teasing Aoi so.

“What?” Aoi’s irritated already, turning back in an instant. Uruha quirks his eyebrows, shrugging casually. “ _What_ , Uruha?” Oh well, forget about the morning kiss then. The blond hated it when the raven was uptight like these. He was naturally sweet and patient, but when he was out of bed, it was like war, every morning – trying to fight with an overly delirious, overly agitated side of Aoi. “I don’t have time for this, okay? I knew I shouldn’t have drunk the wine – I told you I had a meeting today!”

Uruha frowns, still lying in bed, his head perched against his hand, watching the raven intently. “Okay. What were you looking for, again?” Well, he wasn’t in the mood to get into an argument with I-hate-this-world-and-I-hate-myself Aoi now; he usually enjoyed their lovers bickering, but not this time. Uruha had an appointment later with an art director, too. He wouldn’t want to turn up with a bruised eye.

“Suit.” Aoi looks distressed once more, all anger fading from his face. “Oh _god_ oh god oh god… Uruha, I swear I placed it on the bed before we…” His hands wavered in the air, making a kind of horrible looking gesture that only made Uruha laugh.

“… destroyed it?” The blond hums approvingly, nodding. “I remember you tossing it out of the bed before we jumped into it.”

The raven’s eyes light up immediately. “Right! I um, threw it… somewhere… here – ” Aoi’s taking large steps to his right, walking to the study table. “I think it’s under the chair – ”

“Careful Aoi!” But the blond doesn’t yell it out in time, and what ensues is the ear piercing sound of a glass shattering and his lover cursing under his breath. “We threw the glass of wine under there, too.”

“Fuck,” Aoi looks almost on the verge of tears, more out of frustration than pain, and it breaks Uruha’s heart instantly. Today _clearly_ wasn’t his morning… more so than others. The blond’s out of the bed in a second, rushing by his lover’s side, who had fallen to the ground in a heap, clutching his feet close to him. “I think it went in deep. Can you pull it out?”

“Let’s just go to the doctor’s now,” Uruha says, his face apologetic, and he removes the raven’s shaking hands from his leg, bringing his feet slowly to him instead. Half a glass went in; it _did_ go in deep. Blood was flowing out, more than ever, and it only increased by the second; it complemented the wine red on the carpet rather nicely, Uruha thought, then he slapped himself mentally in the brain a second later. “It looks really bad. I’m scared I’ll make it worse.”

“It hurts,” Aoi whispers quietly, the only indication of any pain he’s feeling. He shakes it off quickly though, gritting his teeth, curling his hands into fists. He tries to bring himself to stand up, but Uruha doesn’t let him, pulling him closer to him, instead, shaking his head in disapproval at Aoi’s reckless actions. “I don’t have time. My meeting’s at ten. I need bandage. Do we have bandage? I think I have some at the bathroom.”

Even the smell of blood was beginning to reek in the air by now. “Aoi,” Uruha’s heart is softening once more. Aoi _really_ was a workaholic. “I’ll call them for you and cancel the meeting, okay? I’m driving you to the doctor’s. You can’t walk.”

Aoi’s face pales immediately, the realization seeping in. “You have an appointment, too.”

“I’ll cancel, you’re hurt.” Uruha’s frustrated now, at Aoi’s indignancy, at his unwillingness to take care of himself. But he still tries his best to speak to him convincingly, patiently, knowing Aoi hated being roughly dealt with. And he needed Aoi’s cooperation, more than ever now. “Glass is dangerous. You might die, you know? Aoi… Trust me. Here, let’s get to the bathroom to clean up first, okay? Let’s get the glass and blood off first.”

The raven’s eyes waver once more, and Uruha can see the uncertainty in his eyes, the reluctancy, the hesitation. He’s weighing the pros and cons in his mind, wondering whether it’s worth it to skip today’s meeting, and Uruha sighs, waiting patiently for the raven to _convince_ himself it’s okay to be normal and sane and love yourself for once.

“You don’t have to be a workaholic,” Uruha tries once more, his voice lowering to a soft whisper. “You have me now, remember? You said you were scared of being alone, so you never focused on that. But now I’m here. Okay?”

Aoi’s heart is beating fast with every word the blond utters. _Right_ , because they know everything about each other now. Aoi’s told Uruha the reason why he works so much – not because he actually liked it, but because it enabled him to travel the world, to find _Kouyou_ – and when that failed, he had tried to focus on working, _just_ working, knowing if his hopes of Kouyou were diminished, he shouldn’t keep wanting the impossible, shouldn’t just give up on Mizuki, or his son, or his family – he had jobs, and chores, afterall. But now Uruha’s here, and Aoi feels complete. Wholesome and fulfilled. And Aoi _really_ doesn’t have a reason to become the unfeeling human being he used to be anymore.

“If I miss a meeting, it’ll be okay, right?” Aoi’s voice asks shakily, quietly. His black eyes stare back worriedly into Uruha’s nodding ones, his arms around the raven’s shoulder, supporting him as he brings him to a standing position. “I don’t think it’s that important today. It’s just a progress report. I could get my secretary to pass it to me.”

“Right, Aoi,” Uruha’s lips curve into a smile. “Listen to me, okay?”

“Okay.” The raven nods, looking to his bleeding feet, allowing the blond to maneuver him to the bathroom across. “No more wine drinking before meetings anymore.”

“No more glasses for the meantime,” The blond laughs, hugging Aoi’s slim waist next to his. “Let’s swear to plastic from now on.”

“Okay.” Aoi’s smiling himself, unable to contain the flutter in his heart when Uruha makes him happy like _this_. He leans back against the blond’s strong arms, shutting his eyes for a brief second, admiring how nicely he fits next to him. Feeling the weight of his body sinking against Uruha’s hold; feeling the weight of his shoulders being shared by the blond, himself. “If I die, you’re going to have to swear off wine drinking. Forever. Just a thought.”

Uruha raises his eyebrows once more. “You’re not going to die.”

“You’re just saying that because you don’t want to stop drinking.” Aoi laughs, his voice raspy, but the blond lifts him up with both arms to place him against the sink, and looks to him in the eyes seriously.

“Not true.” Uruha looks away quickly, staring back into Aoi’s confused eyes, bringing his attention to Aoi’s injured feet, turning the tap on hastily to unleash the pouring water. “I don’t know what I’d do if you were gone.”

“Would you stop drinking wine for me?” Aoi’s smiling once more, teasing and laughing. Uruha _loved_ drinking; Aoi couldn’t see the blond without a glass in his hand for longer than a week. “Maybe if I contracted cancer, or something. I couldn’t drink it anymore.”

Uruha rolled his eyes, his fingers easing Aoi’s feet closer to the tap, easing the glass shards out one by one carefully. “Are you drunk? The glass must have seeped some alcohol into you.”

“I love you so much,” Aoi says, quietly, and the blond’s heart ceases to beat in that instant. Aoi rarely said things like that; Uruha knew just how reserved the raven was, and he was only _this_ talkative if he had an ounce of alcohol in him – but he liked this side of Aoi, too, where he seemed to show the blond just how much he cared and appreciated him. “I can’t believe you’re real.”

Uruha tries to further focus on treating Aoi’s feet, but he can’t, because his heart has doubled its speed, and his grin is only getting wider and wider by the moment. He only looks back up to Aoi for a second, observing the way Aoi’s eyes flutter to a dreamy close and smile at him. “I love you so much, too.”

“I wish I could of met you earlier,” Aoi says, looking to his hands. “I wouldn’t have to be so lonely for so long. I wish I wasn’t stupid enough to leave you at first. I’m so glad you chased me back. I’m so glad you did, Kouyou.”

Uruha’s heart stops a second time. He did it again. Aoi was at it, again; calling him Kouyou, for the umpteenth time, when Uruha knew he wasn’t… _really_ ; or that even if he was, he didn’t know that side of him existed. Either way, he had told Aoi he could call him anything, but Uruha was just worried – and _wondered_ – sometimes whether Aoi was indeed in love with him, or in love with the angel side of him that may or may not exist. What if Aoi had never had such an angel? Would he spare Uruha a second glance?

“The glass is out,” Uruha mumbles, his hands moving under the tap clumsily, throwing the last of the glass shards into the sink. The blood is ceasing its flowing, and Uruha grabs for the toilet papers to counter it, suppressing it, before reaching for above the bathroom closet for the nearest bandage roll. “Can you stay still for a second, Aoi? I’ll have to wrap this around you.”

“Mmkay,” Aoi looks half-asleep already, leaning against the mirror behind him; the blond guesses much of the remaining wine in the glass had reached him by now. Aoi was never a good drinker, anyway; he was too easily intoxicated, too vulnerable. “Can you wake me up when you’re done?”

“I will, sweetheart,” Uruha replies with a soft smile, his eyes concentrating on Aoi’s injury, making sure he didn’t miss out on any part of his skin that could have escaped his eye, that could endanger Aoi’s life. When he’s done, his eyes flicker up to the bathroom mirror before him, and he could have sworn he’d seen wings against the raven’s back, and not his.

If there was any angel around here, it would be Aoi, not him. Uruha tries to ignore the dread in his heart, and brings Aoi’s head into his chest, brushing gently past his head of raven hair, hearing the soft sighs of his lovers’ echoing in the silence. _I love you so much. I can’t believe you’re real_.

~  
  
By the time Aoi wakes up, it’s sunset, and the raven is frantic, jumping out of his car seat. The car’s still moving, and Uruha’s in the driver seat next to him, jolted by the sudden consciousness of the raven. Aoi looks down to his body; he’s not in a bathrobe anymore, Uruha must have changed him – and his feet is properly bandaged, now, and he can even feel the burning oilment on his skin. Aoi looks to the blond next to him, peering curiously, wondering where they were, or had been headed.

“I thought I asked you to wake me up when you were done.” Aoi sighs softly. “Are we going to the doctor’s now?”

“We just left.” Uruha remarks, amused, and Aoi’s jaw falls, questions roaming in his head. _Huh_? “I didn’t want to wake you. We had to wait a pretty long time before it got to you.”

“Sorry,” Aoi feels apologetic, his hand tugging at the blond’s arm placatingly. “I suck. I owe you. You missed your appointment with the art director at three, didn’t you?”

Uruha rolled his eyes. _All_ Aoi cared were appointments. “It’s a miracle you’ve survived on your own till now… you don’t seem to care much for yourself, do you?”

“You care for me enough, so it’s okay.” Aoi giggles, and Uruha has to resist a chuckle, his eyes full of love. “I have Uruha with me. I’ll apologise to that art director for you. It was my fault, after all.”

“Ah, it’s okay. He understands. I told him you met into a small accident so I had to help you out. He says it’s okay, because he’s taking a long time directing the setting up of the layout for the exhibition hall, anyway.”

“I can’t wait for your art exhibition!” Aoi’s excitement made the blond laugh. Ever since they had arrived back to Shanghai, Aoi had engaged personal connections to help Uruha out – it seemed that Paris just _wasn’t_ the place for his art ventures, but Shanghai seemed to be! The people here _love_ the abstract _yet_ realistic works Uruha can put out, and it’s not long now that Uruha’s about to put up his first exhibition, something that _even_ Aoi had placed his company’s fund in. “It’s going to be so great. Everyone’s going to see in full form just how beautiful your paintings are. I’m so proud of you!”

A hint of blush appears on Uruha’s face. “You’ll be there, right? No meetings, stuff like that?” He _has_ to go, Uruha thinks. Uruha’s already prepared his speech, and he wants to introduce Aoi as his specially invited guest, as the person that’s motivated him to pursue art again, as his one and only inspiration; even though it’s going to be a surprise to Aoi himself on the very day itself. Uruha wants to unveil his best and only honorable painting; the one he had painted of Aoi the first day he met him, the first time he had ever seen such an angel without wings. The one where he had memorized Aoi’s eyes, nose, lips, hair; all in specific detail, because he hadn’t thought he would see Aoi ever again. But here he was, right next to him, with every perfect detail, more real than ever. So he wants Aoi to be there, to see it, to see this little surprise and gift Uruha’s prepared for him. He wants his lover to be there, not only for his support, but to give him this surprise, to make him happy another time, because Aoi looks the most beautiful when he smiles. And he’d promised Aoi he wouldn’t ever be alone now.

Aoi laughs, running his fingers through his hair. “I’ll make sure no wine-glasses the night before. I might have to go to the ER again. Is your friend Reita going to come? I would love to meet him in person.” Aoi’s heard too much about the man who’d encouraged the blond to come after him; and Aoi would like to thank him personally, too. Though their relationship remained an all-round hush-hush, Reita was one of Uruha’s closest friends and they had maintained regular contact; Uruha had told him of the dream, or rather person, he had been chasing for, and Reita had been wanting to meet Aoi ever since, too.

“He’s coming,” Uruha beams, satisfied with the raven’s answer. “I’ll make sure you don’t go there intoxicated. You’re horrible at drinking.”

“You like me when I’m drunk,” Aoi huffs. “I like myself when I’m drunk.”

“Do you even _remember_ what you do when you’re drunk?” Uruha’s laughing once more. “You say the weirdest things.”

“Of course! I remember! I mean I – ”

But Aoi’s attention is diverted immediately, his eyes mistakenly averting to the front. There’s a hint of shadow fleeting past, and then his eyes catch sight of a white pigeon, its wings shedding bits of white feathers purposefully against the ground around them, its wings resembling vague bits in the raven’s distant memories. The raven pauses for a second, unsure of what to do, a foreign feeling of déjà vu coming over him, but it’s with a shaky voice that he next yells for his lover to stop.

“What? We’re in the middle of a road.” Uruha gives a slight frown, but when Aoi goes silent, pushing his head out of the window, the blond sighs and gives in, knowing he would get yelled at later if he didn’t comply. “Is there anything wrong, Aoi?”

“Fuck!” Aoi screams, and he pushes the door open, running out of the car quickly. He seems to have forgotten he’s injured, so he stumbles along the way, almost falling in some clumsy steps. Uruha’s heart races, surprised by the raven’s sudden cry, and – afraid Aoi would be getting himself hurt – he pulls the door open too, rushing to the raven’s side as soon as possible. He can’t keep up with the running raven, who’s running back to the spot the car had been before, now covered in a furry of white feathers.

“I think we killed a pigeon,” The raven says, hyperventilating, but the blond doesn’t seem to register it, seeing as there wasn’t a single dead pigeon body in sight. “Oh, _god_. Uruha. I think we did.”

“We didn’t kill anything, calm down, Aoi.” Uruha tries to bring the raven into an embrace, but Aoi’s trembling too much to do that, his eyes diverting left and right, looking for a trace of _anything_. “Look, the pigeon got away in time. There isn’t a single dead body here.”

“You don’t understand,” Aoi chokes out, fear clouding his mind. “Uruha… when Kouyou died, he didn’t have a body, too.”

There’s slight anger creeping up on Uruha’s face now. Kouyou? _Again_? He’s managed to steal the spotlight away from him time and time again, without fail, replacing his real name with the presence of an angel that didn’t even exist anymore.

“It was a pigeon, Aoi.”

“These are Kouyou’s wings,” The raven exclaims, exasperated, and he kneels to the ground, reaching to gather the furry of white feathers into his arms. “He’s here. I know he is. I remember seeing his wings somewhere, someday before – but I _can’t_ remember. I couldn’t – until I saw that pigeon, and then it was gone, and I _swear_ I saw a shadow – you see, that’s the thing, Uruha – I can’t remember, but I know it’s there inside of me. I wish I could remember some part of him, or just any part – ”

“I thought I was him,” Uruha’s hurt beyond the core, watching his lover obsess over someone else like that. “I’m not?”

Aoi seems to realize heartbreak in the blond’s voice. “U…Uruha… You don’t understand. You’re him, but – ”

“But what?” The blond’s shaking, already. “I don’t have wings? I’m human? My name is not Kouyou?”

“I feel like he’s giving me things along the way,” Aoi murmurs, his eyes looking up to Uruha’s wavering ones. “He’s transferred his soul and love to you, and he’s giving me little things like these – wings, feathers, things that tell me he’s here, that tell me he’s alive, that he may not have a body to possess his soul but he’s still watching over me. I love _him_ , Uruha…” But suddenly he realizes what he’s said, and he watches the blond turn his back to him abruptly, heading back to the car, his strides long and angry. Aoi’s heart quickens; he hadn’t meant it to come out like that. He loved Uruha, he really did, but sometimes the fascination with his guardian angel seemed too complicated for his lover to understand – and he wanted to tell him that he loved Kouyou, but loving Uruha was just the same, because they shared the same hearts, and Aoi wasn’t biased to anyone.

“Uruha… I didn’t mean it.” He runs over to the blond, enveloping him in a strong embrace from behind, feeling the warmth of his back against his skin. “You know I’ve waited for you… for a thousand years. I love you, Uruha. I’ve waited for a person like you for so long.”

“You waited for Kouyou, not me.” The blond’s still angry, his heart breaking by the mere second. “I feel like an idiot. You love him, don’t you? The person that chased after you in the airport wasn’t me – it was him. I don’t even feel like Uruha anymore – Kouyou’s overtaking me now, isn’t he?”

“Kouyou can’t overtake you,” Aoi murmurs, his eyes falling to a close. “You’re the same person, Uruha. I don’t know how, but you are. And I love you. I love you, Uruha, the painter, the bartender, the man who got egged on the streets and chased after me to take him back. And I love my guardian angel, the immortal, who taught me how to live, and taught me how to love. And I love Uruha for teaching me again. I love Kouyou, but can’t you see – every ounce of love I feel for him… is for _you_ , too?”

“That’s not convincing enough,” Uruha says, quietly, and when Aoi looks up, he realizes the blond is crying, already. He doesn’t say anything more, but when he moves away from Aoi, the raven realizes he’s quivering, in the way he walks.

Aoi had never felt worse in his life.

When he took a look back, the feathers were gone, anyway. Dancing in the wind, sweeping against the thin grass. And if Aoi had looked closely enough, he would have noticed the feathers on the green grasses spelling out the two words: _forget me_.

~

The next few days were _horror_. Aoi had never felt more alone in his life, despite the fact that another soul was living in the same house as him. Uruha would lay beside him in bed, but he wouldn’t utter a word. Nor a sound, nor a breath. Aoi could barely feel him, anymore. The beat of his heart seemed so far away; the way he used to smile at him through his eyes seemed too foreign, _long_ gone. He knows the blond still caresses him in his sleep, and he knows their love is still _there_ , between them, in the way they accidentally brush their fingers when passing over the plates for breakfast, or when they eat in silence, and accidentally stare at each other in the eyes, until Uruha painfully pulls away. He doesn’t want to have anything to do with Aoi, for having broken his heart so violently like that, but he can’t bring himself to hate him, and Aoi can tell the blond is reluctant to treat him so coldly, because he still pauses in his steps to make sure Aoi’s safe behind him, and he still pulls up the covers over the raven when it gets too cold in the room.

Aoi’s tried to apologise, but Uruha seemed to deny him every opportunity whenever he seemed to start a word. Aoi’s disheartened, but not yet defeated. Aoi knows it’s not over; Uruha’ll get over it one day, and for now Aoi’ll just concentrate on not missing his meetings, nor getting too complacent with… pigeons. Aoi wonders just how long Uruha wants to sustain this silence between them, and he even contemplated feigning an injury just to get the blond to speak to him, but he knew he would get yelled at if he did that; he didn’t want to worry Uruha, or trouble him anymore – especially when Uruha’s art exhibition was just in a few days, now, and Aoi wanted to be there for him, even if he knew he would get largely ignored there, anyway. The raven was _dying_ , knowing he had committed a grave mistake the days before, and he wanted _so_ badly to tell Uruha that he didn’t mean it, that he hadn’t meant to say those words _I love him_ , and even if he did – he had actually meant _I love you_. But Aoi knows it’s his fault; he can’t separate the two, and he ought to learn, now. He ought to learn, when he’s been with Uruha for almost half a year, and counting, and Kouyou was a thing of the past, something that should have been… forgotten. Uruha’s real, and he’s here. Kouyou’s gone, and he can’t stay with Aoi anymore. Aoi had to remember that.

“Is the food bad?” Uruha’s distant voice alarms the raven instantly, and Aoi looks up from his food, realizing he’d drawn circles in it with his fork continuously for the past five minutes. “You haven’t taken a bite. Do you want me to cook something else?” Uruha seems particularly worried today, something that made Aoi rejoice a little bit more inside.

“It’s fine!” Aoi says, a little too enthusiastically – but _hey_ , the blond was speaking to him! Finally. “I mean, it’s… I’m feeling abit sick to my stomach, actually.”

“Are you sick?” The blond’s hurriedly getting up from his seat, leaning over to the raven’s, pressing his palm against his forehead. “You feel a little warm. I’ll get you more water and some medicine.”

“I’m fine, really…” The raven almost calls back for the blond, but watching his back figure as he leaves to the kitchen makes Aoi heave a sigh in response. How could he _possibly_ have hurt him so bad? It didn’t make sense – Uruha didn’t deserve it. Nor did Kouyou. Nor him. And yet Aoi had done it time after time; he realizes maybe that day had been the last straw, for Uruha; it wasn’t the first time he had talked avidly of Kouyou before. But now that he thought about it – maybe it _did_ suck getting compared to someone else day after day. Uruha was his own self, and Aoi had to realize that. Unfortunately, he didn’t.

“Hey… Aoi?” He could see Uruha’s figure fading back into view, the blond taking a seat opposite him. “I’m sorry.”

“What?” The raven’s beyond surprised. “Sorry for what?”

“I shouldn’t have gotten angry at you like that. I’m sorry. _Tu es dans toutes mes pensées._ I still love you. I want you to be there, tomorrow, in my art exhibition, because I want to do something special for you. And I need you to be there, alright?” Uruha looks strangely nervous and fidgety, his eyes shyly looking to his hands.

“Whoever said I wasn’t going?” Aoi lowered his gaze gently to him, his fingers reaching for Uruha’s, enclosing them together, feeling the warmth of the blond’s skin against his. “ _Tu es ma joie de vivre_. I’ll be there, no matter what, okay?”

“I was really afraid you wouldn’t,” Uruha raises his eyes to meet his gaze, his palm squeezing Aoi’s tightly. “I was really afraid you didn’t love me anymore.”

Aoi’s heart swells, and he nods, leaning in to the blond. “You shouldn’t even worry about silly things like that… ‘ruha. _Je veux être avec toi_. No one’s going to take me away from you. I’ll be there, I’ll look at all your paintings, I’ll have to meet your friend Reita and I’ll have to see you on the happiest day of your life, okay? I want to go. No one’s forcing me to. I’m doing it because I love you.”

Uruha’s smiling again – the first of smiles Aoi had seen in ages. “I forgive you.”

“Me too.” Aoi says, and the blond doesn’t refuse when the raven leans in, cupping his cheek in for a soft, long-awaited kiss.

~  
  
By the time Aoi awakes, the side of Uruha’s bed is empty. He yawns, stretching, and reaches for a bathrobe, slinging it over his naked body. There’s a note on his bed, and as the raven looks to it, he smiles fondly, glad that things between them had been resolved quickly the day before.

_Sweetheart, I’m off to prepare for the exhibition – I’ll see you later at one, alright? Make sure you turn up, I can’t wait to see you there. ♥ PS: Reita will be ecstatic._

Aoi’s shaking his head, grinning, and as he gets out of bed, he eyes the clock – ten thirty. He has plenty of time to get ready, and then get some breakfast at his leisurely pace.

~  
  
By the time he’s done, he’s dressed in a formal suit – knowing he was representative of his company for the day, and knowing there would be tons of business associates he would be familiar with meeting with him again. Uruha was probably in a suit too, and he’d probably look dashing in it – Aoi had seen him in it only once, when he went for a fitting the first time, and it definitely seemed to fit his broad shoulders very well. Dreamy-eyed with the sight of seeing his artist lover at the exhibition, he picks up his phone on the desk, and then his keys, fumbling with them as he steps out of his apartment and locks the doors, just barely scrolling down past his messages on his phone. There were a few voice mails which Aoi had missed, and they were quite recent, too, just five minutes ago – so the raven picks them up, running down the stairs as he does so.

_Hi, Mr. Shiroyama, I know you asked me to empty your schedule for today, but your mother requested it to be filled last minute. Your aunt’s visiting from Japan, your mother wants you to return to Paris immediately for an impromptu family meeting. There’s a booked flight for you at the airport on airplane AX156, please board it before 1.59PM and be there an hour before, your secretary has been instructed to be there at 12PM waiting with your passport and air tickets. Please inform me if there is any trouble to this arrangement, Mrs Shiroyama apologises for the short notice. Beep._

…. Fuck.

~  
  
“I can’t make it,” Aoi yells for the hundredth time into the phone, ignoring the stares of his neighbours at his deranged state. “Mother, I told you – I _can’t_ make it! It’s not just an art exhibition, it’s something my _friend_ – hey – mother – don’t – don’t hang up – _ugh_! Fuck.” The raven kicks at his front porch, bitter resentment building up in him once more. He hated how his family dictated whatever he did; it used to be fine before, but now that he had _Uruha_ , it just seemed to meddle into every affair they had. Aoi can already imagine Uruha’s disappointment when he came home to an empty house today, or even when looking at the empty seat in the exhibition; Uruha would be _beyond_ devastated. Fuck, if he had thought he had mended things before, Uruha would be heartbroken again. And he hated it; hated being the unwilling one in this relationship, when he loved Uruha so much and he just couldn’t express it. Well… he had to tell the blond, anywho. It’s with a churning stomach that the raven reaches for his phone once more, dialling at his lover’s number.

“Hey… ‘ruha?” Aoi shuts his eyes, hearing the noisy crowd behind the blond over Uruha’s line. People were probably starting to gather there already; and here Aoi was, stuck with a stupid airplane to catch. “Uruha…”

“Are you coming, already?” The blond’s excited, and the raven can already visibly hear the shattered disappointment coming up. “People are lining up – I can’t believe they’re coming to see me!”

“I can’t make it,” The raven says numbly, and the line goes silent immediately. “My mother told me I had to take a flight back home immediately. My… aunt’s here to visit. She rarely visits.”

There’s more silence.

“It’s fine.” Uruha’s struggling to speak, again. “It’s not like I don’t have art exhibitions everyday, anyway. Right? It’s not as if this isn’t a once in a life time opportunity. It’s not like this isn’t important to me, nor is it important to you. Have fun back at Paris… Yuu.”

Aoi knew Uruha didn’t like calling him by his real name; he much preferred the mystical Aoi he had met on that night in Paris, which Uruha affectionately termed him after. And hearing it now seemed painful to the core.

“It’s not my fault,” Aoi says, defensive. “Look… I didn’t ask for this, I promise you, Uruha. I really wanted to go.”

“First, Kouyou, now, your mother…” Uruha continued, quietly. Aoi can’t tell if he’s upset or angry anymore. “I’m never going to be good enough, am I?”

“I love you…” The raven says, knowing anything else would be redundant, but it’s silent once more.

“I love you too.” Uruha’s voice has turned coarse. “When will you be back?”

“I’m not sure, she hasn’t bought a return flight yet.” Aoi realised how depressing that sounded as soon as it left his mouth. “I mean… I’ll inform you the minute I know, okay?”

“Okay.” The blond turned quiet once more. “Reita will be disappointed.”

“Tell Reita I’m sorry, too.”

“Okay.” The blond doesn’t want to speak anymore, Aoi can tell, and he feels so, _so_ bad, for turning the blond’s happiest day into his worst nightmare. “Call me when you reach Paris. Must be midnight by then.”

“I’m sorry.” Aoi says one last time, but Uruha just replies with an ‘Mmm’, and then the line cuts off.

Aoi couldn’t feel much worse than this.

~  
  
Aoi tries to muster the courage to send the blond another text, or give him another call, just to end things off on a better note, but he can’t muster himself to. He knows he doesn’t deserve it; he _really_ doesn’t – speaking to him – and he knows he’ll suffer the consequences when he gets back from Paris later. He wants so badly to make it up to the blond, but he’s failed him time and time after again; he just needed to explain things, to make things right, but it seemed like fate wanted to turn every circumstance against him, wanted to break them apart. Funnily enough, it seemed just like every time he wanted to get in touch with his angel, things wanted to separate them. And now, with Uruha, too.

And now he was stuck in this stupid traffic jam. He’s thrown in some clothes messily, packed a luggage he barely cared about, and dumped it into the trunk of his car, reluctantly getting into it to drive to a destination he didn’t _even_ want to go to. He half-hopes his airplane malfunctions at the last minute and doesn’t work; and _then_ , he’d have an excuse to stay with Uruha for one more day, and at least catch a glimpse of his exhibition. Uruha must be so proud; and Aoi couldn’t even see him on this day.

The honkings of the cars around him are already beginning to irritate him, and it’s with curses that he honks back at them, quietly asking them to fuck off. It wasn’t as if he was in a good mood, already; and he half-wishes this jam continues forever, just so he doesn’t need to go back to Paris to see people he didn’t even want to see, anyway.

Then it happened. _Again_.

A glimpse of a fleeting shadow; and then no more. Pigeons – there must be hundreds of them – flying across the horizon, _visible_ this time, ahead of him. Flashes of memories that were never there were coming back to him once more – _I’m not going to hurt you. I love you!_  – Aoi’s eyes widening, he pulls the side of his car door open, and stumbles out hurriedly. Oh, _god_. He’s not hallucinating this time round.

Kouyou must be here.

There are a thousand – not hundreds, but _thousands –_ pigeons guarding the traffic jam; standing in front a million cars, unwilling to leave, unwilling to let go. They’re here for a reason, and Aoi knows perfectly what reason it is. Aoi shakes his head, smiling, watching as the thousands of white feathers fall against the shade of his car as they fly past, as they guide him to his goal.

 _Go_. It’s just a gentle whisper in his ear, but it’s enough to let Aoi know what it is.

It’s with a determined heart that Aoi begins running, grateful, and thankful, for his eternal guardian angel.

~  
  
“I think there are a million things that can give an artist inspiration. A leaf, a notebook, a… fallen angel.” Uruha tries to keep a straight face, hiding his disappointment underneath the layers of his skin. He scans past the crowd, even though he knows his attempt is futile, and he knows the one he loves won’t be here. “There are a million things that can give us inspiration. But I think… there are few that can make you feel like you are an angel, yourself. And sometimes, beautiful things, beautiful being defined as a way that brings familiarity to you; like the way some times looking at things can bring inspiration to you; like the way they can make your heart pound, and can bring to you a delirious rush that makes you excited, in a way they can manage to bring you your non-visible wings, ones that paint themselves across empty sheets of paper…

I’m lucky enough to find a person, like that. My muse, my… angel. Details you hold onto, because you assume you’re never going to see them again. And… maybe, sometimes, things aren’t meant to be, but… the feeling isn’t going to disappear. Wings… They don’t just disappear.”

“They can appear at anytime, anywhere.” Aoi appears by the corridor of the gallery, panting, sweaty and dreary in his clothes long messed up by all the running; and the crowd’s drawn to the raven immediately, staring at his presence, confused; wondering if his introduction was intentional for Uruha’s speech, or not. Uruha himself  tries to contain his surprise, his heart racing in his chest, trying to hide a smile. “Wings guide you. Guardian angels guide you. They remain, forever, even without a canvas, even without a pen. They don’t need to be drawn. They have souls. We have souls… they can come in the form of feathers, a pigeon, or a letter. But they’re there. They’re just like inspiration.”

“Right,” Uruha smiles, glowing. “Inspiration derives from within. They take you by surprise. _Love_ , takes you by surprise. They can be in the form of meeting a stranger on a strange night in Paris. They can be in the form of chasing after a forgotten dream. They can be in the form of giving you wings.”

“They can tell you when to go, when to stop.” Aoi’s slowly making his way to the stage, smiling impishly as the crowd parts a lane for him to walk through; his steps calm and steady, his breathing deep and loud. “They can tell you when to forget, when to remember. They tell you what is real, what is not.”

“They tell me what I’ve become, and what I’ve not. They tell me that I’ve never become overtaken, because I’m me. They tell me that every ounce of love they feel for me, is for me. ” Uruha’s eyes flutter down, gazing gently as the raven slowly makes his way up the stage, his heart trepidating fast in his chest. “Will they tell me why they’ve come back, now?”

“I came back because you _are_ my angel,” The raven whispers softly, closing in the distance between him and the blond. “And it doesn’t only belong in ‘a strange night in Paris’. It belongs anywhere with you.” When he draws up to press his lips against Uruha’s for a soft kiss, the crowd erupts in applause immediately, with a distinct ‘YOOOOHOOOOO!’ cried out by an overly enthusiastic man with a bandana over his nose.

Said man with bandana then proceeded to jump onto the stage, grab at the red veil over the painting that was laid on the canvas beside Uruha, and toss the cloth off, unveiling the painting of Aoi that night, the Aoi he’s never forgotten and never replaced since then.

“Another round of applause for the pair of star-crossed lovers, everybody! YOOOOHOOOOOO!”

When the raven draws apart, he laughs, feeling Uruha’s arm snake around his waist, pulling him closer to him protectively, the blond’s lips rummaging all over his skin.

“Don’t take me here on stage,” Aoi stifles a giggle, pressing in closer to the blond. “I had to run back here, you know.”

“You smell great,” The blond laughs, trailing kisses down the sides of the raven’s neck. “You smell like I-am-rushing-to-save-my-relationship-of-the-decade-and-I-just-did-in-the-most-amazing-way-possible-so-I-should-win-an-academy-award sweat.”

“Your friend’s overly enthusiastic, I see,” Aoi raises an eyebrow. “You were right to say he would be… ecstatic. Never expected him to be so… happy.”

“Oh, he’s happy, _alright_ ,” Uruha smirked, eyeing the other blond carefully. “But I’m happier. I’m happiest!”

“Wine tonight?” Aoi teases, and falls into the blond’s embrace one more time, watching the world fade out of their background from a distance. Reita may be yelling and the crowd may be cheering noisily in the background, but the raven can only see Uruha, now. And he’s right – the only angel is him. And he gives him wings, and vice versa. Uruha’s perfect, and Aoi couldn’t recognize that so long ago. Kouyou’s here, but his spirit has moved on. And then there’s Uruha, who’s here to love him, to protect – something Kouyou couldn’t ever do, but it’s a job that Kouyou has assigned Uruha to have, so that Aoi wouldn’t ever be alone, Aoi wouldn’t have to be afraid anymore.

“Wine tonight,” Uruha clucks his tongue approvingly, and pulls the raven in for a deeper kiss, pulls Aoi in to feel the beat of their hearts against one another.

Before the raven closes his eyes this time, he could have sworn that behind Uruha were wings, _magical_ wings, sprouting and fluttering and being the most beautiful they can be.


End file.
